Island Park Idaho

Our oh so liberal friends in the Department of the Interior in their infinite (but twisted) wisdom have decided to lower the cap on the number of snowmobiles allowed each day in Yellowstone National Park to 318 sleds. Note that’s not 315 or 320. It’s a very scientifically derived 318. Apparently that’s the precise number of sleds that match the noise and pollution levels of the more than 10,000 cars full of flatlanders that visit the park each day in the summer. How they arrived at that very scientific conclusion is one of the great mysteries of the universe.

If you want my opinion of why it’s okay to effectively “close” the park in the winter and not in the summer, it’s financial. It cost the National Park Service more than $1 million a day to give free access to visitors this summer. In the winter they’re certainly not making any money. So in my estimations they’re thinking “hey, we’re not making any money here anyway in the winter, let’s push to restrict access. If that flies, we’ll start on restricting summer access.” Now I know it’s very dangerous to try and try and get into the mindset of the American liberal, and I don’t recommend you try this at home as this is something that should be left to the experts, but there seems to be no other way to explain the apparent absurdity of this rule.

I guess the buffalo and elk in Yellowstone have an extreme sensitivity to the smell of snowmobile exhaust (not to be confused with automobile exhaust, which they apparently thrive on.) Even worse, after years of breeding in this environment of semi-captivity, they’ve developed such acute hearing that the noise of a snowmobile passing by at 25 miles and hour is offensive to them (however the noise made by Harley Davidsons roaring by at 55 mph is music to their ears.) Praise be to the gods that we have people here in America smart enough to figure all this out. Who knows what would happen if they left it all up to the rest of us “unwashed” people?

For the silver-lining group among you, there is one bright side: if you happen to win the lottery and get to putt along at a snails pace through the park, you likely won’t see anyone else. With the hundreds of miles of roads in the park, and the shamefully low number of sleds, you’ll likely have the park to yourself. You gotta love that!